


Fall from grace (and into your arms)

by dy_n_m



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn, Alternate Universe, Bad Decisions Were Made, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Mutual Pining, One too many lies were told, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, no beta we die like men, satan's a dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-05-18 10:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dy_n_m/pseuds/dy_n_m
Summary: It was common knowledge in Heaven that Crowley - even his name was so different, was not your typical by the book angel.It was also very common knowledge in Hell that Azirafell - not a very inventive name change, was a very special demon.





	1. In which an apple was eaten

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at 3 AM, then quickly turned into a multichapter story, and it's now here for all to read. Hope you'll enjoy this train ride.
> 
> All mistakes are my own, don't hesitate to point that out if you notice anything off.

If you asked any angels Up There about a certain angel named Crowley, you would probably get an answer along the line of this:

“Crowley’s not your typical by the book angel.”

“He’s a weird fellow, never meet someone quite like him.”

“Why are you asking about him? It’s best if you stay away from that guy.”

When you asked why you would also get a mixed bag of response that could be boiled down to “He’s not nice.”

Were you to meet the guy, you would probably agree with the other angels, first impression-wise of course.

It was very easy to find Crowley Up There, in the midst of hundreds of other angels. When most wear white clothing, or something akin to white, with perhaps a shade of yellow and blue here and there, Crowley was all black.

His robes at the time were pure black, and the pair of glasses that he would acquire later in life would have the same shade of color. His hair was a fiery red, and the yellow with slit pupils eyes were something you would only see in serpents and snakes. 

In short, his appearance was not very angelic looking.

If you had enough courage to strike up a conversation, you probably would leave the talk hurt and confused. His acid tongue was not to be joked about, and Crowley was very good at using that weapon to his convenience. Sarcasm was his mother tongue it seemed.

He also didn’t act helpful and nice, and so everyone in Heaven held the same opinion: “He shouldn’t be an angel.”

But God kept him up there as one of Their own, and so everyone shut up and went on with their days. If most of them tried to stay away from Crowley, well, no one said anything.

For his part, Crowley couldn’t care less about Heaven’s opinion on him. The angel usually sauntered around like he owned the place, and the Garden of Eden was his favorite spot to hang out. Not near Adam and Eve, of course, he had no need for talking with the humans. 

No, Crowley would usually find a nice place where the sun shone brightly and the grass was warm to lay down and rest. Today, it so happened to be near the Tree of Knowledge, with the Forbidden Fruit just slightly out of his sight. 

That was also when he met one Azirafell. 

Azirafell, like Crowly, was also an outcast in Hell. Unlike Crowley, the man was a demon.

Crowley, at the time, would never think that Azirafell was a demon. He looked too similar to his fellow angels that Crowley simply think Azirafell was an angel like himself. 

After all, no demon would wear that white of a robe, or have that genuine of a smile on his face. He was cheerful and happy, and his blue eyes shone kindness and love that it was blinding to look at. It simply made no sense that Azirafell was not an angel. First impression-wise of course.

The blond walked to Eve and started chatting happily with her, and in turn disturbed Crowley peace and quiet. The angel had half a mind to sit up and think about a change of place but didn’t when the “angel” and the human approached the tree.

Now, when God created the tree then tell everyone that eating the apple is a forbidden thing, Crowley simply thought that God should have placed that tree out of reach if They were so protective of the fruit. But Crowley abided and didn’t interact with the tree at all. So why were these two here?

His question soon got an answer when the other “angel” plucked the apple from its branch. Crowley gasped. 

Oh fuck.

Eve clearly didn’t hear him, and he hoped this "angel" didn’t either. Crowley quickly and stealthily inched closer to the tree, and he stayed still and listen. When asked, he didn’t know why he simply stood there instead of flying off to alert the other angels, but that was what he did. 

He heard Eve’s voice, high and soft and familiar to his ears, and he also heard Azirafell’s voice, comforting and warm and so fitting with his appearance. 

He didn’t pick up the underlying demonic tone from the demon to no one’s surprise. Azirafell was very good at being deceitful.

“Take a bite,” he said, urging Eve into this sinful action. “It’s very good, I promise.” 

“But God said we shouldn’t…” Eve trailed off, and Crowley mentally cheered for the human. 

Azirafell smiled understandingly, but continued on, “It tastes great, and besides, why would God keep this here if They don’t want anyone to eat it? Should have kept the tree lock up if They really want to keep their apples to themselves.” 

Crowley silently agreed, before berating himself for agreeing. He should stop this, he knew but part of him was curious as to how this would end. God helped him.

Eve still looked unsure, good for her, but Azirafell simply press on, and he even took a bite of the apple to both Eve’s and Crowley’s shock, before handing it over. 

“A bite wouldn’t hurt now dear, see! I’m still fine here.” 

The following event transpired: 

Eve took a bite of the fruit, and her mind was suddenly assaulted by the flow of knowledge, of Good and Evil. 

Crowley let out a gasp, before rushing off to a better hiding place. He really didn’t want to be here when another angel came, or worse, God.  

Azirafell smirked, watching in amusement when Eve used leaves to cover herself. He too turned away, following the actual angel.

Adam came, and he too took a bite and understood Good and Evil. 

The two humans got expelled from the garden and Eden and so start humanity as we knew it now.

It was what started God’s Ineffable Plan that lasted through 6 thousand years and more, of war between Heaven and Hell and the destruction of earth from said war, of the Antichrist and of free will and more. But for now, we turn our minds back to the main characters of the story, who was standing on top of the wall, looking out to the desert. 

After all, it was also a story of friendship and love. 

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon,” Said Azirafell, looking very pleased with the sight of Adam and Eve outside of Eden. “Oh, look like they found the unconscious guard!” 

He gleefully pointed at the flaming sword Adam held in his hand, easy to spot from where they were standing. Crowley for his part jumped at the voice, not even registering that the demon had followed him. 

But who could really blame him? After all, he had just witnessed that...whatever that was. It would definitely stay in his thought for the next few hundred years and more, and if he could dream that would surely plague his dream too. 

“What the- what wasss that?!” He hissed, literally, at the demon.

“That was an overreaction if you asked me.” The demon shrugged, “I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway.”

“Well it mussst be bad –” He looked over with a raised eyebrow “Whoever you’re ssssupossed to be…”

“Oh! Where're my manners? It’s Azirafell.”

“Crowley. Anyway, yessss! Otherwissse you wouldn’t tempt them into it!”

“Eh, they just said to get up here and make some trouble. Would be terribly bad if I disobey you know?” The demon said with a polite smile “But it’s really not all that subtle of the Almighty, putting the tree there.”

Crowley, again, found himself nodding to the demon. Azirafell, his mind corrected, he had a name. “Should’ve put it on top of the moon or something.” He muttered, and Azirafell beamed at him. 

“See! I know right, but well, it’s all part of the great plan I guess. Ineffable and all that, you must know all there is to know about this, being an angel.” 

Crowley shrugged. Great Plan this and Great Plan that, he found it ridiculous really, that he had to follow God’s every word...Well, he had to follow God’s every word, he was after all an angel… who didn’t smite a demon at first sight… and then later had a talk with said demon…

Oh no.

He glanced over to Azirafell, yellow eyes tracing the demon’s every feature. It was all very friend-shape, he had to admit, except for the pair of coal wings spreading comfortably next to his white one. 

The coal wing that was moving up, stopping right above his head just in time to shield his long hair from the first droplet of rain. That was...awfully sweet of Azirefell, he thought but didn’t complain.

They watched the rain in the peaceful silence, one that Crowley found was better than his usual rest in Eden. Definitely not because of the company, of course, he was an angel and Azirafell was a demon. 

Don’t be ridiculous.  

Azirafell had to leave at some point of course, back to the awful Hell where he first came from. Well, he first came from Heaven, then fell, but you get the idea. 

The demon left with a wavy cheer and a polite smile, one which Crowley returned with his own before they parted away. Then said demon jumped off the wall, aiming straight toward the sand before swiftly change course and shot up again, the wild wind from the departure messing Crowley’s hair up in a birds nest. 

He didn’t find himself to mind all that much, and to everyone’s (except maybe God’s) surprise, he also found himself missing the demon. They had had a great time gossiping about the angels Up Here, especially Gabriel. 

The dry vacant spot next to Crowley seemed to taunt him, and he turned back to Eden, ready to figure out an excuse when they asked about this whole debacle. He was very good at making up excuses and omitting the truth just a little. 

It was just a small lie, how bad could it be?


	2. In which the adversaries were chosen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look in Hell, a meeting in Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when I said this would be a weekly update thing? I lied, uploading schedule is a myth, I'm uploading whenever I want (twice a week it seems)

“Hell was a very bad place. An awful, dreadful place.” Was Azirafell’s first thought when he first saw the place, back when he was Aziraphale, a Principality from Heaven who asked too many questions. This opinion still held true now when the blond stepped through the gate of Hell.

It was dark, and cold, and damp down here. Not a single ray of sunshine and the first rain only made this place worse with water dripping from the ceiling and puddle forming on the rocky road. Not to mention the humidity down here.

The only reason Azirafell cared about the weather was because of his books, to be honest. The many intricate pages of writing would be bent and wrapped, and Azirafell would have to miracle them all back to tip-top condition again. For the third time that week. 

It was a horrible place to be, Hell. 

He walked past Hastur, who for once was not seen with his other half, and he wondered what happened to the other fellow. He didn't hate those two or hate anyone down here really, so it was natural for Azirafell to worry for his fellow demon. 

Hastur didn’t seem happy, though to be fair the demon rarely did. The happiest he had been was when Ligur was involved it seemed. Azirafell smiled. What a duo!

Hastur shielded away from that smile of course, as most demons did when Azirafell did so. It wasn’t common knowledge anywhere else but Hell, but the mutual agreement was that everyone was to stay far away from Azirafell. 

Why? Well, besides the fact that the demon looked exactly like an angel that just waltzed in Hell? If you asked Hastur, it would be because of that damn smile. Azirafell was anything but rude, and his polite smile had a way of unnerving people.

Do you know That Guy who was always so happy go lucky and polite and that damn smile always found its way across his lips? That would be Azirafell. The innocence polite smile looked wrong on the demon, but it fitted Azirafell’s whole appearance. 

It wasn’t only that, for a simple facial quirk couldn’t possibly scare the Duke of Hell. It was what lurked underneath that angelic appearance, what Azirafell could do that he was holding back. He wasn’t a demon for naught after all, and Hastur really didn’t want to find out the capability of the other demon. He had seen and heard enough rumor already, and rumor always has some hint of truth in it...

And so Hastur quickly averted his eyes and walked away in the opposite direction when Azirafell strolled to Satan’s office to give his mission report. Hastur didn’t even want to know what that demon had done to have to report back to Satan instead of the usual people in HQ, and he thought he really didn’t want to know. 

He was out of sight when Azirafell reached the giant scary door with bones and skulls decorated on the side. To other demons, it was the thing they would see before death, for meeting with Satan couldn’t result in good things. To Azirafell, it was a nice door, a bit dusty but nothing a good cleaning couldn’t fix.

He knocked politely. 

Or, he would have knocked politely if the door didn’t swing open before his hand even made contact. Azirafell shrugged, stepping in and ignoring the loud slam when the door shut close. 

“Hail you! Bad day, sir!” He greeted cheerfully. If any other demons were present, they would have started planning for a funeral – no one talked to Satan like that, except maybe Beelzebub. 

Satan, the huge imposing figure sitting on a throne of steel behind an even bigger desk, a golden plate with his name clear for all to see, “Satan.” Azirafell briefly wondered what happened to Lucifer Morningstar, but he didn’t pry. It would be rude to do that, really.

He snapped his fingers, and a cup of tea appeared in his hands before tea was invented. Azirafell later would take great pride in passing down the knowledge to humans and claim to hell that it was an addictive substance. 

The Great Boston Tea Party helped his case a lot. An amazing evil deed, everyone would say. But that was something way later in the future. For now, he was meeting with Satan, who looked at him with red eyes that scorched through his entire being. 

“Ah, Azirafell…” he muttered, voice deep and echoed across the stone wall. It vaguely reminded Azirafell of those felines when they purred, the sound resonated deeply in its chest. 

He would never voice that thought aloud, of course, he liked his life thank you very much.

He didn’t realize he was lost in thought again until Satan repeated his question, this time with an unsaid threat hanging in the suffocating air. “What did you do up there demon?”

“Well, you know the Tree of Knowledge?” He began, knowing that of course, Satan knew about that Tree. Everyone did. “I tempted –” Azirafell winced, he had never liked the word that much “persuaded the human into eating that and going against God’s wish.”

“Goooood~” Purred Satan, and the thought once again returned to Azirafell’s head. Damn it.

“And now Adam and Eve are wandering outside of Eden, and I think Eve might birth soon really. The start of humanity, isn’t that great?” He continued, “So many new possibilities, who knows what their little minds would think of now that they had the whole forbidden knowledge thing. So exciting!” 

Satan stayed silence through his rambling, something very unusual if Azirafell might note. He was well aware that he talked a lot when he got nervous, or excited, or scared...he talked a lot. But usually, the other party would shut him up, though not this time.

Strange. Oh well. 

“Really, humans are made after God’s image after all. Oooh, I wondered if God actually just let me gave them the apple, that would be quite weird, playing into the Ineffable plan like that. Anyway, that’s that, how was your day sir?” 

Satan let out a long-suffering sigh and mentally added “Azirafell talking your ears off” to the list of the possible torturous instruments. 

“Well, you certainly did a good job...I mean a bad job, a good bad job. You know what I mean.” Satan started, watching with mild irritation as Azirafell preened under his praise. “Now that that had happened, I had a new task for you.”

Azirafell stood up straighter. “Yes, Lord?”

“Since you are so...enamoured with these humans.” He began, “Why don’t you just stay up there and focus on spreading sins? It would make both of our job easier really, and you can just turn in report yearly or something like that.”

And Satan watched as Azirafell’s eyes widen, and a beaming smile slowly overtook his face. A very genuine smile that made Satan gagged. “Oh! Oh, that would be great sir! Do I go now? Hmm, I should pack something to bring up there I think, oh it will be so much fun!” 

“Whatever, you can just leave now.” Satan sighed, watching as the demon dashed out without a goodbye and presumably straight to his little place in hell to get ready. And Hell too would get ready, for a party. 

He was sure when the news got out that Azirafell was leaving, everyone would want to celebrate.

Satan shrugged. He would too, and so the King of Hell contacted Beelzebub to set up a date for the event. Watching his demons fighting each other in the drunk haze was a very good past time or so he had been told.

At the same time, the Metatron received an order from God Themselves, regarding the angel Crowley. Metatron, naturally, wondered if this was in any way related to what happened in Eden, but in the end, the angel didn’t question it. They should not question God’s will, only to carry out God’s order.

An hour of boring meeting and debriefing later, Crowley walked out from the conference room ready to explore Earth to his heart content! Of course, there was the adversary business to worry about too, but he would deal with it when it happened.

For now? It was time to have some fun for Crowley!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy that! 
> 
> [ Tumbling down tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dy-nevers)


	3. In which 6000 years passed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cold opening of episode three, at chap three
> 
> (I did not split the first chap into two to match the number, I definitely don't know what you're saying)

They avoided each other easily the first few years, each wanted to explore this Earth before actually turning up for the job that they would have for the foreseeable future. There was a lot of new information to learn about, things that Heaven and Hell weren’t equipped to teach you.

An amazing example of this would be having a body. A physical body that functioned, a body that was tailored for them. It was weird.

Crowley’s opinion on legs swung from “Do I really need this? I can fly after all.” to “Oh woah, this is so cool, walking on land!”, back and forth and the angel hadn’t settled on a fixed opinion yet. 

He did have a weird walk that many humans gave him a curious look about, but Crowley had never been one to care about other people’s thoughts. 

And they could eat now! Eat and drink, and Azirafell had been wanting to try this wine people were talking about. The result was him drunkenly stumbling around, before waking up at somewhere he did not know with a killer headache. He learned about sobering up through trials and errors obviously.

Azirafell also fell in love, don’t let anyone in Hell heard he think that, with sweet. Humans were so inventive, and the sweet they made were just divine. Again he hoped that Satan was not listening to him. Though he figured he could spin this into Gluttony anyway, so all was well.

Crowley, on his end, marveled at the entertainment side. He naturally gravitated toward having a good time, of course, there wasn’t much to do in Heaven after all. Music gave him quite a thrill that made his foot tap and his head bob to the rhythm of the song – it was hypnotizing. 

The two came to the conclusion that Earth was a great place, or at least much better than their respective place from before. It was a great time!

They still did their job, of course, Azirafell ‘tempting’ people into sins and Crowley spreading goodness as best as he could. This usually included giving children food, chilling with animals – especially snake of all kinds, and reigning himself in from having...too much fun.

He was trying, he really was. Earth was too great of a place for him to mess his job up and get sent back to Heaven.

The two adversaries did meet up, it was hard to avoid each other for that long of a time. And not when something big was brewing in the horizon when animals pair by pair gather around Noah’s ark in preparation for the flood. 

Crowley was already there, watching as his snakes marched up the wooden boat when Azirafell finally turned up. He had heard the sound of wings flapping in the distance and thought nothing of it until a very familiar face from a demon suddenly pop up from behind. 

He denied that it scared him. Azirafell begged to differ. 

“Hello Crowley!” Azirafell joyfully greeted his adversary.

“Azirafell.” He glared at the demon glarefully, forcing his heartbeat to slow down. So the angelic demon was his so call mortal enemy then.

“Sooooo –” Azirafell started, “Not turning me in, and from what I heard, lying for me. I’m quite flattered really, thank you, dear, though how had that been working out for you?”

… Crowley stared at the demon. Where did he even hear that from, and which angel should he need to talk about this “breach in Heaven’s security”? It was a spur of a moment thing really, he reasoned with himself, nothing special anyway.

“The Almighty had never actually mentioned it again.” He shrugged, looking away quickly. 

Azirafell hummed in acknowledgment. “Good, I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble, dear… Though do you even know what’s happening here?” 

“Big flood from God. Probably upset with the Chinese...or the native American...or the Australian.”

“Not going to fault him for that. A bit weird They are killing the innocence too. Mothers and their children... Make you wonder huh?”

“They’re killing childrenssss?!”  Crowley hissed, and to Azirafell’s surprise actually looked panic. At least not all angels were following God blindly. “Gabriel didn’t tell me that detailsssss – The bassstard sssaid God would sssspare thosssse one.” 

If anything, Azirafell’s smile got wider “Ah, lying too. Gabriel had always been an annoyance, never thought he would settle on lying to his fellow angel. Quite a pleasant surprise really, thanks, dear.”

That didn’t help Crowley’s panic in the slightest. The angel was shaking, a hand messing up his red locks while the other gripped on the cart until the knuckles were white. His yellow snake eyes turned to the demon, the pupil darting back and forth before looking directly at Azirafell.

“Azirafell, w-we had to do something! I can’t just sit by and watch this goes down, this is horrible! Even for me!”

“Dear, you’re asking a demon for help.” 

“Oh, I don’t know! You could say you were defying God’s Plan or something, you’re good at making up lies right? You’re a demon, you’re supposed to be good at that.”  

Azirafell was quiet, but a hand – strangely warm for a demon, placed itself on top of Crowley’s own, the thumb rubbing slow circles at the shaking skin. “Well, when you put it like that, who am I to say no?”

On his report, Azirafell would claim that not only was he defying the Ineffable Plan, he was also indirectly killing off other animals on the ark due to a shortage in food supply. Animals that he made clear that only had two of its kind in existence after the flood. The ran away unicorn helped his point a lot.

On his report, Crowley would claim that he had not known the full order, and acted on his conscience in an effort to save the innocence children. He was quite pleased when Gabriel got scolded by the Metatron for not giving clear instructions. 

That would be the first and not the last time they helped each other out. Unless you count that first time with Crowley.

 

 

“You knooooow –” Azirafell started, leaning a tab closer to Crowley. “This whole enemy thing is stupid my dear boy. Seriously, it’s because of that that I couldn’t get drunk with you sooner.”

They were indeed, very drunk right now. Bottles of wines scattering on the floor, messy papers brushed aside for, you guessed it, even more wines. It was a mess, and it was great.

“You could just ask me to go out for a drink angel. Like normal people do.”

Azirafell simply smiled at Crowley and his ridiculous nickname. He was a demon, not an angel. Yet Crowley kept insisting on calling him that after the whole ark deal, it was humiliating. Or it would have been humiliating if he didn’t enjoy the nickname so much. 

Also, it was confusing. Crowley was the angel, not him.

“But we’re not normal people, really now. You’re an angel, Imma demon, we are heredity enemy. I shouldn’t even be here with you right now, Hastur would have my head if he could actually beat me.” 

Crowley paused. “Yeah, that’s a good point. It’s stupid anyway, we usually cancel each other out well enough. God, I’m agreeing with you.”

“See! I know you will think about this dreadful adversaries business as I do!” Azirafell smiled, and Crowley thought it was sunny all of a sudden despite the rain outside. “If only we can just be, I don’t know, friends. You know?”

“Well, we can always lie to HQ, good idea Azirafell. I would love nothing more than to lie to Gabriel and got yelled at. I would love to keep the interaction to a minimum with him.” Crowley muttered, taking another drink. 

Azirafell, on the contrary, thought it was a great idea. And said so. “Huh, good idea, why did I not think of that? I’m supposed to be the demon here…” 

“Are you crazy angel? This is lying!”

“Eh, no big deal dear boy. It’s a harmless white lie anyway, like that one Gabriel told you. What Heaven doesn’t know can’t hurt them. And Hell couldn’t care less about my report anyway. Have I told you that time I fabricated a whole big disaster on paper? Seriously, for a bunch of demons, they are soooo gullible.” 

Azirafell rambled on, if he was chatty sober then when he was drunk he couldn’t stop moving his mouth. It was both distracting for Crowley, but at the same time, the sound soothed his mind well enough. It was nice, he decided.

This idea was nice too, he also decided. Azirafell was a great guy, demonic deeds aside. He didn’t even do much, or rather the thing Crowley knew he had done wasn’t that bad.

What the angel doesn’t know couldn’t hurt him, Azirafell always thought, not letting Crowley knew about all that calamities he caused. 

The demon was still talking when Crowley actually cut in, ignoring the ‘Rude!’ from Azirafell. 

“This could actually work...W-we could have like, an arrangement! We say that we stopped each other, and just well, make stuff up on the report… You better hope I won’t get caught, or else Azirafell.”

Azirafell, if possible, smiled even wider and Crowley turned away from that sunshine expression. “Oh, I know you would agree too Crowley. The Arrangement!” He said, miracling up a paper and some inks “We might as well make it official now. Come closer dear, you got to write this with me too.”

When they got up tomorrow, none could be mad at the mess that was The Arrangement on the table, spilled ink and wine everywhere else. They finalized the details together of course, and so started an official friendship.

“Is it a friend thing that requires me saving you every time Azirafell?” Crowley grumbled, stopping time in a dark dungeon while the French revolution was taking place outside the cell. 

“Crowley! Oh, thank Satan you’re here!” Azirafell greeted him normally as if the demon wasn’t in chains right now. Crowley sighed.

“Pray tell, why are you here during the French revolution, dresssssing like that angel?!” He hissed, miracling the chain off. “I thought you’re sssuppossssed to be smart?” 

“When I said I would die for some good crepes, I wasn’t lying dear Crowley. Plus, it’s France! They made the best crepes I tell you, amazingly good.” Azirafell shrugged, “Do you want to get some right now?” 

“No, what I want is for you to stop ending up in these situations.” Crowley said, nodding to the offer anyway “Why couldn’t you just miracle yourself out anyway?”

“Too many miracles a day isn’t good for a demon,” Azirafell answered, immediately miracled a correct outfit for himself much to Crowley’s irritation. 

“You just want me to come and save you huh?”

“Yep, now come quick. If we’re lucky we could even catch some of the head-chopping action.”

And with that, Azirafell practically dragged Crowley out of the cell by his hand and definitely ignoring the “Are you responsible for the guillotine?” from Crowley. They both know the answer was yes anyway.

 

 

“Yes, I had the books.” Azirafell smiled, handing over the stack of first edition prophecies he had managed to dig out from his library. Or well, he had managed to make a good enough fake copy, no way was he giving away any first edition to the Nazis. 

He had standards. 

Azirafell stood silently as they flipped through the many pages with the nonsensical words, and continue to be silent when a gun was pointed at him. 

Humans, how cute. 

The demon smirked. Even if he was in a church and his feet were burning didn’t mean that he was all powerless. That would not do at all. So when he raised his hand and ready to perform a demonic miracle of his own, Azirafell was well prepared for two corpses.

That was until he heard Crowley from behind, threatening to bomb the church. Azirafell was surprised really, an angel threatening to bomb the church of all places, but it did mean that he was doing a good job corrupting Crowley, or trying as best as he could.

Crowley really wasn’t like other angels. He could easily swindle those angels to fall, he had done so but with Crowley, his methods didn’t work. ‘Well,’ he reasoned, ‘Not all angels are friend with a demon either.’

In the middle of his thinking, he could vaguely hear the noise of the bomb dropping getting louder and instantly reached out for Crowley’s hand, grabbing it with his own. And teleported them to a nearby roof, just in time to watch the church went aflame.

He wished he had brought marshmallow for this campfire. 

Crowley cleared his throat next to him, and Azirafell turned back to the angel. The angel who bombed a church for him...Oh woah... Crowley looked guilty next to him, the orange light of the flame lighting his feature up beautifully and Azirafell squeezed his hand harder. 

“You don’t have to do that dear, but thank you.” He smiled gently, a smile many had said to be very comforting and empathetic. It did its job well when he saw some of the stress left the angel’s shoulder.  

“Shut up…” Crowley muttered, thrusting a bag toward him. 

A bag, with his books inside. Not only did the angel bombed a church, he even made sure to return the book to Azirafell. The books were fake, but the sentiment was there, and Azirafell smiled. An actual smile, one that was specially reserved for Crowley.

The angel was affecting him just as much as he was affecting Crowley. Azirafell couldn’t find it in himself enough to care. 

“Really, thanks, dear.” He said softly, accepting the books with his free hands. 

“Just, don’t mention it angel.”

 

 

“No no, do repeat that Crowley. You said you have holy water?” Azirafell asked, eyeing the bottle with great care. 

“Well, I can’t have you risking your life, not for something that can actually destroy you completely,” Crowley grunted, handing the bottle over to Azirafell. The demon’s hands were shaking, he noted. “So, you can call off the heist.”

“It’s the real thing?” He asked, awed. “T-thank you, dear.”

“Better not thank me. Though I could drop you somewhere?” He offered, hands tapping on the Bentley wheel.

“Not now, when I have this. Precautions must be taken to protect this. Another time though, perhaps a picnic. Or dining at the Ritz…” He trailed off, a hand wandering over to the door handle. 

“I’ll give you a lift, anywhere you want to go.”

“You go too fast for me Crowley.”

The door closed, and Crowley groaned. Wasn’t it how these things go? You give them a gift, and ask them out for dinner? Should he use flowers next time? Or was that too fast too.

For God’s sake, Crowley thought.

 

 

For Satan’s sake, Azirafell thought. 

It would be awkward to tell Crowley about the news about the Antichrist, and he hoped that his friend wouldn’t try to adopt this one like what happened back in the ark too… 

Or maybe a demonic miracle to get rid of the Antichrist would do, and he could easily blame Hastur and Ligur for the murder. They were the one who was chosen to deliver the baby to the church after all. 

Apparently, he was not trustworthy enough for such a job. He would have felt offended if it wasn’t true.

He and Crowley both enjoyed Earth too much to leave it to ruin after the war after all. It would only be logical, his plan to deal with the Antichrist. 

That night, in his usual attire plus a pair of white gloves, Azirafell got into a car and drove to where the babies would be traded. 

_ He had a murder to commit.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the only reason I started this was to get Azirafell to murder a baby, I'm sorry not sorry.


	4. In which the sky mourned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deed is done.

It was raining.

The droplets of water fell down, hitting against his black umbrella, echoing past the cemetery. 

He heard sobbing and moaning, but it all seemed muted, deafened by the tapping of the rain.

Azirafell frowned.

He had foregone his usual attire. Instead, the demon was clad in a black modern suit. A spot of color that stood out – a red tie, properly knotted and tucked in completed his suit. A stark contrast against a gray day.

It wasn’t all that different from the blood of the what would be Warlock against his white gloves. 

It was a beautiful sight. Tragic yes, but beautiful.

After all is said and all is done, he was a demon. He let slip a humorless chuckle.

_ What would Crowley thing about this? _

Azirafell looked at the tombstone, with words and praise etched neatly in the rock. There was only one date, as expected of the gravestone for a child a mere hour old.

_ Crowley, who took in children during the flood. _

His gloved fingers, the same pair he used days ago, traced the numbers. It was like smearing the blood on his hand onto this tombstone, Azirafell realized.

_ Crowley didn’t need to know. _

The fallen angel left the funeral.

The end justifies the means, he said to himself. 

The rain kept on pouring, and the cry of a child haunted his ears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? using chapter length as a way to pace this fic? more likely than you think
> 
> next chap coming up soon though, cause of the length of this


	5. In which a meeting was held

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S-satan.

“Hail Satan, what happened to the kiddo?” The demon asked Azirafell. 

He smiled back with a smile that was more forced than ever in his 6 thousand years of existence. “What makes you think I know?”

“Well, you’re the one who’s supposed to check in on the kid!”

“I thought that was you?”

An uncomfortable silence followed what Azirafell had just said, and he saw Hastur and Ligur exchanged glances. “No, we only have to delivered it to the nuns, you have to keep an eye on him— didn’t HQ told you to do so?” 

“I didn’t receive anything! Good grief, this is not good at all. Oh no…” 

He paced the small area underneath the tree where they set up the meetings, leaves and branches broke under his shoes. He muttered, words too fast to understand, and messed with his ever perfect blond hair.  To Hastur and Ligur, he was panicking. And Azirafell, to the best of the duo’s knowledge, never panic.

“This is bad, this is really bad. Six thousand years and for what? Now we lost the Antichrist, oh no, what would Satan think of this —!”

Hastur stiffened, and Ligur outright flinched. Of course, they hadn’t thought of Satan, how predictable.

“Ok, calm down, let’s try to think this through. There had to be a solution, there had to be.” He said, raising his voice just a tad. “Oh we’re doomed, aren’t we?”

“I’m sure we can think of something,” Hastur added, trying to look on the bright side — not a thing demon usually do but in this case, it was understandable.

Azirafell finally stopped his back and forth pacing, and the demon turned to look at his co-workers? Acquaintances? His something. 

“Ok —“ he started, “I will just talk this out with Satan… I’m sure he will be perfectly reasonable!” 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?! No!” Hastur shouted back, and was that worry in his eyes that Azirafell spotted? “You’re gonna fucking die if you do that!”

“It’s the only logical solution, really now dear.” He flashed them a smile, comforting with an edge of uncertainty in there for good measure. “I’ll cover for you too, don’t worry.” 

“Fine, it’ll be your death wish.” Ligur piped in, a hand nudging Hastur’s side. 

“It’s better him than you.” The demon whispered, though Azirafell could hear it clearly anyway. He let it slide. It was sweet of Ligur to care, even if caring was not in the demonic dictionary.

“Well…” Hastur hesitated, “If you make it out alive, we owe you one.”

“Of course. Well, run along now you two, I got a meeting to attend it seems.” He waved the duo off, smirking as they hightailed away. 

Now, time to deal with Satan, it hopefully shouldn’t be too hard.

 

* * *

 

It was very hard to even drag his body to Satan’s office. ‘Is it what others feel like standing in front of the Lord's door?’ He wondered, trying to distract himself from the fear crawling up his spine. 

He knocked. Once, twice, and a third time.

There was no response, not a “come in” nor did the door swung open on its own. It was unnerving, that’s what.

With a sigh, Azirafell gingerly pushed the door open on his own. Here goes nothing.

The office was as dark as usual, only a few torches on the wall illuminating the space and the slight opening of the door letting some light in. Everything was the same, except for the fact that Satan was none to be found.

Ah, fuck.

Just as he about to walk back and find someone who knew where the lord was, Beelzebub might have a good idea, the door slammed shut again. 

Ah, fuck, the sequel.

“Azirafell.” He heard the voice from behind, “Why are you here?” 

He had half a mind to kneel down on one knee, hoping that would increase his chance of survival somewhat. “My lord, I —“ he took a deep breath, “I bring bad new sir.” 

Silence greeted him, and Azirafell took it as an invitation to go on. “You see, there had been a mix up from HQ, it was all a really big mess sir, you know how it is, bureaucracy and paperwork and Welosttheantichristsirimsorrydontkillme!” 

“What was that?” Satan asked, and Azirafell knew full well that his lord had heard the last part clearly. He repeated it anyway.

“We lost the Antichrist sir. It might be anywhere on earth right now and I have no way of finding it again. Sir.” He added as an afterthought. 

More silence. He fidgeted on his spot, hands clenching and unclenching. Azirafell dared to look up, and he saw Satan with his eyes closed?

“S-sir?” He ventured, flinched when the pair of pure black eyes opened and drilled straight through him. 

“Well, good for you —“ Satan started, standing up from his throne and walked closer to Azirafell. “That I had a solution for this, huh?”

Satan was close enough to touch him now, and Azirafell could vaguely make out the sense of corpses surrounding his boss. “Y-you do, sir?” He choked out.

“I can sense my child Azirafell, don’t be stupid. It merely took some time, its power still isn’t that great. Yet.” Satan added, the clawed fingers inching toward his nape, digging in. It broke through his skin smoothly, sending unpleasant electricity running through his body.

The Antichrist was still alive?! The Antichrist was still alive, did he got the wrong one? Azirafell’s breath quickened.

“That’s great sir.” He grounded out, teeth clenching. Everything in his instinct was telling him to run right now, and for once in 6 thousand years the demon considered praying for God.

“Don’t do anything stupid Azirafell, I’d know. You’re lucky the other kid was only a decoy. Don’t forget your place.” 

He nodded as best as he could with the claws digging in, the movement making it worse. 

A decoy, a fake. Satan knew. Fuck, he knew. How was he not suffering in the lowest level of hell?!

The claws left with a new coat of blood, and Satan walked back to his throne. “Run along now dear, best not to disappoint.” 

He ran. 

Later in the day, the phone he bought just to communicate with Hell and Crowley rang. He was both happy and not that the caller was the former.

The demon scribbled down the address, and prepare himself for a night of researching about Tadfield. This would be tiring.

 

* * *

 

Crowley tiredly pushed open the bookshop door despite the Closed sign and walked into the store. Calling it a store would be a stretch really, he thought, Azirafell didn’t sell books as much as he hoarded it on the dusty shelves. 

Said bookstore owner was not here, not unusual but also nothing to be worried about. Azirafell always had a tendency to abruptly move around the globe, usually when he found a new rare book to add to the ever-growing collection or when the fallen angel ‘felt a bit peckish.’ 

So Crowley shrugged and wandered into the backroom, making himself home while waiting for his friend to be back. He all but collapsed on one of the comfortable chairs that he knew Azirafell bought just for him and melted into the comfortable heavenly softness.

He was in no hurry, this was a social visit as opposed to a business one anyway. There wasn’t much going on with Heaven, or not that he knew off and he had been hoping to catch a drink with the fallen angel. The wine cellar that Azirafell had was to die for.

Crowley was in the state of half sleeping half awake when the doorbell rang, and the familiar sound of footsteps woke him up completely. He would deny being happy that Azirafell was back like a dog missing its owner, but both of them knew that was how it was anyway.

Plus, the opposite was also true so Azirafell got no room to judge.

“Angel! Where were yo- Azirafell!” The greeting turned into a half-shout when Crowley actually laid his eyes on the demon. The bandaged demon, with dirty gauzes and blood seeping through. 

“Crowley! I didn’t expect you here…” Azirafell trailed off, looking anywhere but at the slit pupil that was blown wide with worry and fear. Why did Crowley leave his glasses off now? It didn’t make him feel good to look at the amber eyes at all. It was a weird feeling.

He was feeling guilty, the demon realized. That was a first…

The angel stood up quickly and dragged Azirafell to a chair, pushing him down on the seat. His hand quickly found its way to the gauze on Azirafell, carefully unwrapping it as best as he could with a shaky hand. 

“Why didn’t you miracle yourself back to tip-top condition…?” He asked, his hands hovering over the wounds. Claws marked, Crowley noted, 5 of them leaving an open wound. “Stupid, stupid angel.”

Azirafell chuckled lightly, “I would if I could my dear. It seemed like my demonic miracle got nothing on this.”

“...Another demon attacked you then?” 

“Something like that, yes.”

Crowley sighed, working in silence as he poured his magic into the wound, watching with relieved eyes as it closed and leaving unmarked skin behind. “What happened?” He finally asked.

“Thanks, dear, and well, the usual you know? Business in Hell is dreadfully dirty like that.” 

“Ussssually you don’t leave the meeting injured either!” He hissed back. 

“I’m bound to slip up at some point Crowley, but it’s ok now.” He reached out at Crowley’s shaking hand, holding it tight and trying to reassure the angel. “I’m fine dear, you healed me back up again, see? It’s ok.” 

“No, it’s not,” Crowley muttered, shagging against Azirafell’s form until he was half sitting half leaning on the demon. “Be careful next time, or I’m coming down there with you.”

“Hell’s no place for an angel Crowley, but yes, I will try to be more careful next time.” He smiled, pulling Crowley completely into a hug. He hated to admit it, but the presence of the angel soothed his head, but at the same time amplified the guilt.  

Sat- Someone damned it.

“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable,” Crowley muttered, the sound muffled from where he was leaning on Azirafell’s shoulder. He stood up reluctantly, pulling the demon up with him and guided him to the bed nearby. 

“I don’t need sleep Crowley, you know this.” He half-heartedly protested, even when the newly-healed head snuggled in closer with the soft pillow. Crowley merely chuckled, crawling in next to the demon and wrapping around him like a snake.

“Just, be quiet and get some rest Azirafell. We can talk more tomorrow.”

It was unknown to Azirafell at the time what made him say it, though he guessed it was a mix of guilt, tiredness, and Crowley next to him. 

He blurted out, “Remind me to tell you about the thing tomorrow. D-don’t let me worm my way out of this, not this time...” 

And Azirafell promptly fell asleep, dead to the world for the next 6 hours.


	6. In which a new plan was made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talked, kinda  
> Adam get adopted, kinda

Crowley opened his eyes and blinked sleepily a few time, before closing them again and snuggled closer to the source of warmth next to him. Said source of warmth shifted and moved slightly before Crowley felt a hand coming up to pull him even closer. 

He could hear a constant heartbeat, and Crowley belatedly realized he was sleeping with Azirafell. 

He was sleeping with Azirafell…

_ He was sleeping with Azirafell! _

The angel sat up quickly, looking over at the still form of the demon. Memories from last night rushed back to his head, and Crowley frowned. What Azirafell said last night before the demon nodded off was very worrying.

He knew Azirafell hid a lot of things from him, usually the more shady and dirty business the demon had a hand in, but this sounded way more serious. 

What happened in Hell last night?

And more importantly, did he even want to know what happened in Hell last night?

Well, if it concerned Azirafell’s safety, then yes. 

Said demon stirred, and Crowley watched as Azirafell slowly wake up. The blond hair was a mess, and he brought a hand up to rub his eyes sleepily. It was cute, Crowley thought before he paused and dismissed the thought. 

“Good morning angel.” He greeted, the nickname rolling easily out from his mouth. It started out as a teasing remark of how Azirafell actually helped him with the children back then and grew into what humans would call a pet name. 

It was also confusing, and it was always fun to see Azirafell paused before realizing Crowley was talking about him and not some other angel.

“Morn’ Crowley.” Azirafell replied, a hand going up to massage his temple, “Ugh, why am I so tired?” 

“Your whole demonic thing is not used to Heavenly miracle. Just rest a bit, I’m sure you will feel better soon.” He answered, sliding out of the bed. “Tea angel?”

“Yes please.”

Crowley smiled, walking to where the kettle was and made himself busy. The repetitiveness of the action calmed him somewhat, and he prepared the usual cup with the right amount of milk and sugar Azirafell liked, which was way too much in his opinion. 

And now here they were, Azirafell with his cup of tea and Crowley chugging down the black coffee until his mind got the usual amount of caffeine to function. It was silence, peaceful, and he knew he was about to plunge that silence into Hell and replace it with an uncomfortable conversation.

But it was needed to be done.

“So –” He began, putting the cup down, “You said something yesterday.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to elaborate on the subject then angel?”

“I…” Azirafell opened, then closed his mouth again, lost for words. He hummed, shrugging slightly. “I really don’t know how to start this…”

“Take your time.” He said, trying to be as comforting as possible. He had a feeling it didn’t work well, it never had. He was not made to be comforting, that was Azirafell’s department.

“Just rip the bandage right off I guess.” The demon muttered, “Had Heaven told you about the Armageddon business?”

“No? Heaven had been quiet on my end.” He answered, “...Oh, it’s about Armageddon then.”

“Yeah. They had found the Antichrist.” He smiled bitterly, “I wanted to tell you right away, but you know.” He gestured vaguely, ending with a shrug.

“So, why had Heaven been quite? Do they not know?” Crowley asked, looking up “Or...Am I excluded for some reason? If so, ouch you know…”

“I don’t know dear, Satan kept these things pretty undercover. I wouldn’t be surprised if the angels Up There are still clueless about this. Most demons are still kept in the dark I think.”

“Anything else?”

Azirafell paused, hesitated. The memory of his hand holding the apparently fake Antichrist that night, blood staining his gloves. Crowley didn’t need to know about that. 

What happened yesterday leaked in too, and if Satan wasn’t lying… Having Crowley anywhere near Adam when there was constant surveillance… 

He knew Crowley would fly to the Antichrist the second he knew about it. The angel’s heart was too big for his own good.

“There was a switch, and the Antichrist went...missing during that process.” He lied, looking down at his hands. “Satan was furious with me, hence the...you know. And now I have to find the child before Armageddon take place to lure him to evil so to speak.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah, basically that.”

“We’re in deep shit.”

“As vulgar as that was, yes.”

They sat in silence, the uncomfortable kind, at least to Crowley. Azirafell seemed to be deep in thought now, the angel noted, so it would be best to leave him be with his own mind. So Crowley stood up and collected the cups, miracled them clean and back to the cupboard.  

He wondered if he should leave the bookstore and drive back to his flat. He doubted that he would be of much use really. 

But the Antichrist business, and how vulnerable his angel was when he admitted he couldn’t deal with this alone. Moral support was as good as any right?

 

* * *

 

Yes, if he actually had the chance to be encouraging. Azirafell was trapped in his own little space the whole day, muttering and writing down notes onto a small notebook that he refused to let Crowley read.

It was near dusk now, and the bookstore had nothing that would entertain Crowley. He was bored and was ready to leave to be honest. 

An hour later, he did. Not with a single “bye angle” like he usually would, or a small wave as he sauntered out from the bookshop, he just left. Crowley doubted that Azirafell would notice him leaving anyway.

He was correct, the demon did not notice the absence of the angel. Not until it was near midnight and Azirafell was ready to take a break and maybe get a drink after a day’s work to unwind.

It was very stupid of him really, not even noticing Crowley’s not being here. He assured himself that the work this time was more important, plus he was trying to keep Crowley safe and out of this situation. It didn’t work that well, considering the ‘guilt’ was back and stayed on his mind. 

Azirafell sighed, miracling up a cup and grabbing a random a bottle from his collection. Alcohol would help, it always would. It was alcohol, nothing could go wrong. Just something to take his mind off things for a very while.

 

* * *

 

All the Antichrist business was a load of shit, Azirafell muttered, downing his third? fourth? something cup of wine. His words slurred together, and his mind was in a pleasant haze that blocked out the more reasonable section.

If he was sober, Azirafell would not stand up and try to miracled himself to Tadfield. But he was not, and so with a clumsy snap of a finger, the demon found himself standing on the street of Tadfield. 

...Or somewhere near Tadfield, it was hard to tell without any light. Well, let there be light, he said, and a shining miniature sun popped into existence. His blue eyes blinked a few times, getting used to the shift of light before nodding in satisfaction.

Adam Young was near here, and that was good enough. Might as well get acquainted with the Antichrist when he still had time.

He stumbled across the street, the light dutifully followed his footsteps. It would be a weird sight for anyone who looked out of the window tonight, to see a silhouette and a flaming floating orb of flame wandering the peaceful town of Tadfield. Luckily none looked out.

Azirafell stopped in front of the address that Satan gave him and glared at the too typical of a house the Antichrist was supposed to be raised up in. He had thought Satan had dropped the kid off to a graveyard or something worse…

‘Maybe breaking into the Antichrist’s house while drunk off your rocker is not a good idea’ Said his logical side, and Azirafell agreed. He only wished the whisper had come sooner before he even made his way here, but what done’s done.

With a snap, his head cleared and Azirafell stumbled. It wasn’t always a pleasant feeling to suddenly get rid of that much alcohol in one go, but it was a small price to pay. His blue eyes, clearer than before, took a proper look at the house once again.

It wouldn’t be hard to break in, he doubted the Young had an alarm installed in this too peaceful of a neighborhood. He didn’t even have to be worried about the alarm system, he could just snap himself up to where it was.

He did exactly so and came to face with a small blue crib in the middle of a room with childlike illustrations of a forest on its walls. The light green stickers in the shape of stars and planets were the only light source, casting a faint glow. 

It was beautiful and was not suited for the Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, and all the other titles at all. He had to chuckle, of course, it wouldn’t be flaming walls. The parent didn’t know, he had to remind himself. 

The chuckle disturbed the Antichrist, and the baby noise made Azirafell jumped. He shakily turned back, and with caution steps, approached the crib. 

If this was the Antichrist, who knew what it would do to him just because he dared woke up the thing? And he had read somewhere that babies were very emotional creatures, aka this couldn’t end well for him.

The noises died down, and Azirafell let out a relieved sigh. It was so much easier to deal with the (fake) Antichrist with the knowledge that the thing was only a few hours old and couldn’t exactly do anything to him.

This one though, it had had time to grow. Not much time, but the difference was there. 

Also, Azirafell was sure that Satan was watching, so no killing anything yet.

Upon closer look, the Antichrist definitely wasn’t like what he was expecting. Though what he was expecting was a literal spawn of Satan with a tail and horns, and void-like eyes and radiating evil.

Adam Young was like your everyday summer child. The kid’s eyes were a clear blue like his own, and he wondered if the Antichrist would also have blond hair when it – he, grew up. That would be amusing.

His finger carefully poked Adam’s cheek, the baby fat still there. It was soft and strangely nice. Adam’s smaller hand – how could something had hands so small, reached up and wrapped around his finger, and he felt a curious warmth as opposed to a cooler temperature most demons had.

Azirafell, despite going in thinking he would despite the Antichrist, smiled softly. Crowley was growing on him, the demon decided before pulling his finger back with great care.

‘Perhaps, another Plan can be made,’ he mused, looking at Adam. It was a stupid plan, but it was better than Earth destroyed and Sa- Somebody forgave him for not wanting to fight with Crowley because of their different sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have moved on from child murdering to child adopting, aren't you proud?


	7. In which an attachment was made

He caught a cab back to the bookstore and miracled up some money for the driver, shutting the door behind him. It wasn’t the Bentley, but Azirafell doubted that asking Crowley to pick him up all the way over in Tadfield would not raise a lot of suspicions.

Also meeting the angel right after what happened yesterday wouldn’t do good for his emotional health. Guilt was an awful feeling to feel, he decided.

So he took the cab back to the bookstore and pushed the door open, whistling a cheerful tune as he returned to his sanctuary. The shelves of books – mostly consisted of ancient and first editions one, always did a great job at calming him down somewhat. 

Azirafell sat back in his chair, the first edition non-edited The Picture of Dorian Grey in hand carefully flipped open, and read. Oscar Wilde always had such a way with words, it made him forget about the real world for a few precious moments.  He was in the middle of Sibyl’s performance in Romeo and Juliet when the doorbell rang, and he looked up, ready to persuade customers from not buying any of his precious books.

Luckily, turned out he didn’t have to, Crowley wasn’t interested in any kind of books here. Unluckily, it was Crowley who sauntered in the store. 

“I’m sorry –” Azirafell blurted out before he could stop himself. Since when was his self-control this bad, this was the second time now. “About yesterday...You helped me a lot, and I just ignored you like that.”

Crowley looked stunned as if the angel hadn’t been expecting an apology from the demon, but Azirafell continued anyway. “It was just, I was a bad friend and I know my action can’t be excused, but I’m sorry anyway…”

He trailed off, looking at Crowley. The angel stood still, and Azirafell hesitated for a second before standing up and pulling Crowley in a hug. “I, I’m really sorry.”

He felt an awkward pat on the back from Crowley, and his mind restarted. He pulled out of the hug, a tentative smile on his face slowly turned into a smirk the same way Crowley’s pale face turned red. 

“It’s alright angel –” The actual angel in the room muttered, for how could someone who killed a kid in cold blood be one? “The circumstances of this whole thing, I understand. It’s ok.”

‘You don’t understand,’ He wanted to say, wanted to confess. He held his tongue, not letting this lack of control repeated itself. ‘You don’t have the full picture.’ 

He didn’t.

“Well then, emotional bullshit aside,” Crowley started, walking to his backroom “We got to talk. Apparently, Heaven knows about this too now.”

“Oh?” He asked, locking the door and turning the sign to Closed before following Crowley’s footsteps. “They told you or did you have to ask them about it?”

“Got a message this morning.” Crowley replied, “The news finally got out it seemed. I wouldn’t be surprised if all of Hell know too. Anything on your side?”

Azirafell shrugged, “Not that I know off. Doubt any of them would want to waste any precious time training for the war to go and report stuff to me. Beelzebub might just assume the news would reach my ears soon enough.”

“News from an angel,” Crowley added. 

“And where did your side get their information from, dear?”

“Michael’s backchannel? Maybe they managed to catch bits an pieces from gossiping demons? Who knows, it’s not important anyway. What is important right now is the war and the Antichrist.”

“Which Satan sent me out to find it.” Azirafell reminded Crowley, “What would I even do when I found the kid?”

“Good question... I don’t know Azirafell.” The angel took off the glasses and rub his eyes with the other hand. “Everything was nice and okay before suddenly this happened. I don’t know what to do anymore…”

“The war probably will level Earth, and about you and me... Well, I don’t want to fight you, Crowley.” 

“Glad we can agree on that.”

Azirafell sighed, looking over at the angel. It was clear that Crowley was tired, more so than usual. The stress was catching up to both of them with the Armageddon business then. Why couldn’t they just not fight, Azirafell wondered, it would make things so much easier.

“Say, hypothetically, if I found the Antichrist –” He started, watching as Crowley peeked up from his spot, “Do you think I can...tempt him into loving humanity?”

“What?!”

“Look, if the Antichrist grew up loving Earth, then it wouldn’t want to destroy the planet for a war. Like how you and me, and 6 thousand years of getting attached to everything here.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. 

“Do you think they will have the Bentley and the plants up in Heaven? Not to mention all the technology and the sight, and –” He rambled on, naming as many things he knew Crowley liked about Earth. 

“And you.” The angel added, and Azirafell stopped. 

“What?”

“You said it before, I don’t want to fight you. So yes, let’s give this plan of yours a try. Seems worth a shot really, or at least better than anything we have now.” Crowley rushed out, the words were quick but not to the point of nonsensical. “We do have to find the little bugger first if anything though.”

“I know. But at least we have some sort of a plan right now. I-it will turn out alright.” His reassurance was shaky at best, but Crowley nodded, his shoulder stop tensing. 

“I’ll ask around about his location, you do the same.” Crowley concluded with a small smile, “I’m not lazing around while I can still do something.”

“Sound good.”

 

* * *

 

“Sound horrible.” Complained Azirafell, slowly inching away from Adam’s crying. Was all children this ear-grating, or was this an Antichrist thing? Did he even want to know? 

The demon tried shushing the baby, while at the same time hoping to Sa- Someone that Adam’s parent would be back soon. Honestly, who left a child unsupervised like this? Or was this something Satan planned, purposely choosing parents that neglect their child?

Whatever it was, it didn’t change the fact that he was here, all alone, with a crying baby. A crying Antichrist baby. 

How did humans do this? 

He thought of the ark, knowing that he would usually just keep an eye around while Crowley was the one doing most of the work. Having Crowley here would be so much better, he thought, but at the same time…

Crowley’s safety first, this mess seconded.

Oh! He could do the thing where the mother picked the child up and...swing it around? Azirafell wondered how that could help with the crying, but a try couldn’t hurt, right? A try...to pick up the Antichrist. 

He crept closer to the crib and winced at the loud volume the child is making. Absolutely an instrument of torture of some kind, this kind of noise. Maybe it was an Antichrist exclusive thing.

With slightly shaky hands, he held the Antichrist up and followed what he had seen from other humans as best as he could. A hand supporting the head, the other keeping him close against his chest, carefully like he was handling a rare book.

What else did baby need? Food? Maybe that was why Adam was crying?

He miracled a bottle of milk up from thin air and smiled when Adam’s hand reached out for the drink. Ok, he was just hungry, it was not the end of the world. Yet.

Azirafell hummed a tune, one he was sure he picked up from Crowley’s music taste as he fed the Antichrist. The scene from an outsider perspective must be ridiculous, he noted, a demon and the Antichrist being domestic.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when the comfortable weight of Adam leaning on his chest was there to distract him.

He had already grown attached, hadn’t he? Oh for Sa– Someone’s sake, gave him strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now have Az being a softie to children everyone. Thanks Somebody for that.


	8. In which the Antichrist draw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The domestic demon and Antichrist interactions are finally here!

You know that exercise in kindergarten when the teacher told you to draw your family member? The kids, with clumsy hands, would sketch out stick figures with smiley faces holding hands, and shaky writing of Mom, Dad and Me on top of the people.

It was cute, sweet and usually, the drawing would find its way on the fridge for all to see. 

Adam’s drawing was none of those, or at least according to the teacher it was not the first two, and Adam wouldn’t let anyone hang it anywhere. 

The drawing was of two stick figures, both with blue dots for eyes and yellow scribble for hair. ‘Adam’ was labeled on top of the shorter figure, and it was smiling wide and happy. Beside him stood one ‘Fell.’

“Who’s this Fell, Adam?” the teacher would ask him when she laid eyes on the drawing.

“Fell’s my friend, duh,” Adam answered.

It would make the situation way better if Fell didn’t have a pair of black crow-like wings or sharp pointy teeth. Or if the background was not a burning inferno with other stick figures in it.

“Your imaginary friend?” The teacher continued asking.

“Nah, he’s real! As real as uh, as me!” Adam finished proudly, satisfied with the simile he came up with. 

“Why didn’t you draw your parents Adam?” 

Adam pointed at the burning figure. 

That was the end of that conversation. 

So yes, the teacher was concerned, and Adam Young was oblivious to said emotion. All he cared about right now was to rush home and show Fell the picture he made in class. And maybe after that, they could get ice-cream together, vanilla for both of them.

He simply couldn’t wait! The moment school was done, Adam all but ran out of the classroom, almost tripping on his shoelaces on the way out. He dashed past the other students, bumping into some of them and had half a mind to say sorry to said students. Fell had said manners were important. 

Young Adam Young, he remembered Fell laughing once after he said that, was tired when he reached his home. Pedaling on top speed was naturally taxing, and it left his legs aching.

His mom was at home in the kitchen, and he threw a quick hello on his way up to his room. Dad was still at work, he usually didn’t get back until dinner time anyway, and that was a lot of time in between.

He opened the door with the ‘Keep Out’ sign taped on the front, written by himself with some help, and jumped on his bed. It bounced, and Adam giggled as he settled down onto the soft bed and blanket. 

His bed was a mess, books and crayons and papers scattered around, and Adam absently picked up one of them. Fell usually wasn’t here right away when he got back, his friend got a job to do he said, but he usually left a book or five here for him to read.

(It was, of course, not the first editions nor rare ones on the shelves, more like brand new books that were more suitable for kids. Azirafell had a feeling philosophy wouldn’t interest Adam anyway.)

It was a nice age-appropriate book, about pirates in space and cool ships that let Adam’s imagination wandered. If there was one thing Azirafell was glad that Adam picked up from him, it was the reading. Books are underrated in his opinion, obviously.

It took only 50 pages of words and illustrations sprinkled in here and there when Adam heard a knock on his window. The book was immediately abandoned, thrown to the side as Adam sat up and slid open the glass pane.

Azirafell, or Fell as Adam had taken to calling him, swooped in. His friend was in his usual suit that Adam thought was ridiculous yet suited the man, and his wings folded on itself to fit through the window. 

He could just make it disappear, or more simple, miracle himself in. But who was he to deny Adam the joy of seeing actual large wings that were only described in fantasy? 

“Good day, dear boy.” He greeted, a hand came up and ruffled the blond curly mess of the hair. 

Adam pouted, battling the hand away. “Staaaph.” He complained half-heartedly, a small blush rising on the already pale skin. 

Azirafell chuckled but did remove his hand from the hair after ruffling it up one last time. He simply couldn’t help himself.

“So, how was your day Adam?” He asked, sitting down on the bed in the same spot he had been sitting in for the last five or so years. He might as well had a spot reserved right there. 

Adam sighed, flopping onto the bed again. He unconsciously shifted closer to Azirafell, and the black wings lifted up to make space for the Antichrist, pulling him even closer until they were touching. 

“Boring… You know how it is already, going to school, do work, get back home. The usual.” He replied, shrugging. “You’re the only interesting thing in this town Fell.”

“Maybe if you try to talk to other people, it won’t be that bad anymore. Human, or any being for that matter, need friends you know?” Azirafell suggested, “I do wish that you would talk to more people dear.”

The demon turned to look at the Antichrist, hugging the child with one hand. “Who knows, you might make some quite interesting friends.” 

“If you say so…” Adam muttered, “Friend doesn’t sound like that bad of an idea. Not that you’re a bad idea, but you’re a special case, you know?” The boy added hastily. 

“Of course. But yes, a friend is a great idea. It’s great to have someone to just talk to, to relax with, to just be yourself around them.” He smiled wistfully, “Someone who knows you so well, and you know them as intimately back, and you two seem to complete each other, just like that.”

Adam laid there, listening closely. He was curious, whenever the topic pop up Fell would always talk this way. The way he saw in those movies his parents watched late at night, so absolutely smitten it was painful. 

“Who’s your friend?” He asked.

“Oh, I have never told you about him huh?” Azirafell laughed, the noise reminding Adam of wind chimes of all things. High, delicate, beautiful. “My best friend in the whole wide world and beyond really.”

“Is he like you then?” Adam gestured vaguely at the wings, “Or is he human?”

“Oh, he’s the opposite of me. His wings are white you know? Maybe opposite does attract.” Azirafell smirked, “He’s an angel, a softie at heart even if he always wears black. He thinks it’s cool.” 

“He sounds cool,” Adam whispered. White wings, white wings, white wings!

“He tries his best. But after 6 thousand years of knowing each other, I can see through those acts easily.”

“...Can I meet him one day?” 

Azirafell paused, opening and closing his mouth. It was strange, for his time of knowing Fell, Adam had never seen him got speechless like this. Was it about him being the Antichrist?

He didn’t realize he voiced that aloud until Azirafell answered with a simple “Yes.”

Azirafell had sat down with him a few weeks ago, and with a measured voice that his parents usually used when they were going to ground him, explained his… ‘special heritage.’

“It would be better if you know now, instead of when everything is going to waste at the last minute,” Azirafell said, gathering the deck of cards back to the box where an old drawing of Satan also laid. 

Adam had the most unimpressed face when the story was told and with a petulant pout, he said with so much conviction “I don’t want the world to end though. I have so many things I haven’t done.”

“Well, let’s keep that opinion the same when the time comes, yes?” Azirafell said, relieved. 

He hoped Satan wasn’t checking in, it would end in the worst way for both him and Adam. He did not want to see himself in a torture chamber, especially with Hell’s creative methods of causing pain. 

“You know your dad keeps a close eye on you, Adam.” He answered, both of them knowing which dad this was. “I don’t think bringing my friend here would do us good.”

“Yeah yeah, I get it. Though you just described your friend clearly for all to hear.”

“Hell’s technology is very slow Adam, I don’t think they even have an actual audio spy yet. And I surely hope your dad is busy with his work that he wouldn’t be here listening in 24/7. Now that would be creepy.” 

He hoped Hell hadn’t updated its spying gear, or Satan was here listening to him being friendly with the Antichrist. Azirafell doubted he could make up a good excuse for this very special situation.

“Make sense.” Adam shrugged. “But fine, I will try to make friends with the kids at school. It shouldn’t be too hard right?”

“In theory, no, it shouldn’t be. But you never know what humans would react in these situations.” 

“Fair enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeep, surely hope so too Fell, surely hope so too! On the bright side, we get to see more Crowley next chap! Feel like i have not been writing enough of my boy, that will get fixed soon :3


	9. In which there was a visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back with Crowley this chapter, let's see how our angel has been holding up when Az played godfather.

Crowley was not having a good day or a good week, or maybe just a good month in general. Armageddon was drawing closer, Heaven’s increasing its training that he was forced to participate and Azirafell kept going missing. 

Not missing kidnapped missing, more like not being here when he needed the damn demon the most. The bookshop was barely opened now, as opposed to the ridiculous hours from before, but it was still open. The closed sign in fancy handwriting only made Crowley angrier.

Azirafell was not hiding in the backroom or at St. James or the usual restaurants that the demon favoured either. Crowley could still feel his friend, only now the demonic aura was just a faint scent, not comfortably wrapping around him like before anymore.

The angel missed it terribly. He didn’t realize it was there until Azirafell started doing this disappearing act, and now the lack of something so natural was taking a toll on his mind. 

Logically, he knew Azirafell still had his duty as a demon to go and hunt for the Antichrist, and maybe that was why he had been going off the map the past few months. Months which turned into years of minimum contact.

“He could have at least call…” He thought bitterly, the wine bottle half-emptied in his hand. “Or text, or leave a note or anything.”

He drunk himself to oblivion and woke up with a killer headache that ached almost as hard as his heart. Almost. He miracled the physical pain away with a snap of a finger.

“Damn Azirafell and his stupid face,” Crowley grumbled, dragging his body out to the kitchen where a cup of coffee – black as his soul, sat waiting. Bless up. 

He downed the whole cup in one gulp, then went in for a second one. And a third, until his brain had managed to form coherent thoughts, one of which was “Stop drinking so much coffee.” He obeyed said thought and put the winged-handle cup down. 

The angel sat up properly and wondered what should he do today. Usually visiting Azirafell and hanging out with the demon would take most of the day, but in this case, he doubted his friend would be here. 

Doing good deeds it is, he decided. 

Crowley’s list of good deeds on Heaven could be described as the barely passing grade on the final exam. It was small, insignificant, done as a second thought. Or to Crowley, the fifth thought. 

Azirafell, his plants, Bentley, Queen and then good deeds. The first four might as well be tied for the first place though. 

So after a satisfying yell at the plants, he refused to call it a vent of all thing, Crowley was in his Bentley with Love of My Life blaring from the speaker. The angel glarefully glared at his car, the lyrics stinging more so than usual.

One might think the Bentley had a mind of its own, and all the amazing Queen songs it played would always fit the mood Crowley was in. One would be right, considering how many times the Bentley had played Need your Loving or any other romantic songs whenever he and Azirafell were in the car together. 

Crowley hated and loved it for that exact reason.

The drive to the nearby hospital – Kohelet, nice name in Crowley’s opinion, was fast, not only because he was driving at 90 in central London but also because of a little miracle here and there, and Crowley parked his car nice and neatly outside of the glass door. 

It wasn’t the first time he had visited the place, Crowley had lost count of how many times he waltzed in the place with a doctor disguise in place, complete with some minor glamour for his eyes. He didn’t think doctors here were allowed sunglasses, and it wouldn’t be good if he scared everyone here with his snake eyes.

It was, however, the first time he walked in and saw A. Zira Fell on the hospital’s database. What was his demon doing here, in a place like this? As far as he knew, Azirafell hated this place despite it being a perfect operation for the demon to work. He didn’t think Azirafell had actually set foot in here once, even when the demon was here for him. He would always wait outside.

So, pray tell, why was Azirafell here? Was it Hell again, giving him those nasty wounds he couldn’t cure himself and so the demon was forced to go here for treatment? But if so, he could just go to Crowley, right?

The angel resisted the urge to bash his head in the nearest wall. Instead, he checked the database again then went to room 412.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small easter egg somewhere in this chapter as a small sudden "why the hell not?" moment.   
> And thank you for clicking and reading this :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: non-descriptive torture, told through dialogue

“I don’t know what you’re playing with here, Azirafell, but next time you did something like that without permission, it wouldn’t just be your spine. Or some of your organs.”

“I-I’m sorry, please please sir–”

“Honestly, running around and telling Adam about your angel? Who’s supposed to be your Adversaries?”

“E-enemy, w-was temptin- AAA!”

“It wouldn’t be wise to lie to me Azirafell.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Go- Sir! Sir no, no please.”

“Get up, we’re not done with you. Don’t numb your pain sensory yet _dear_ , not before I get to pull them out myself.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeep, that's a thing


	11. In which wounds healed

Somewhere in Tadfield, Adam wondered what happened to Fell. He hoped his friend was all good and well, the angel had never missed their afternoon hang out. 

 

 

Back in room 412, Azirafell’s healing sped up to the Crowley’s amazement.

  
  


 

Satan smirked when he felt his son’s power spiked up. Torturing the blasted fallen angel had its good after all. Maybe the 24/7 surveillance could be cleared, for now.

  
  


 

Azirafell opened his eyes, then immediately shut them closed. The blinding white wall of the hospital, the light shining right at his eyes, a silhouette beside his bed.

A silhouette beside his bed?

“C-Crowley?” He asked, words stumbling out of his dry mouth. His teeth were still there, he noted. Good to know some of his healing still work then. It was mostly Adam’s, but the demon didn’t know that now, did he?

The shadow didn’t move, and he opened his eyes again, squinting at the sunglasses covered the other’s face. He saw himself in the reflection, looking worse for wear with white bandages barely visible under the hospital’s blanket. 

The haze around his brain disappeared when he cleared himself of painkiller, and he let out a tired groan anyway. That was enough to wake Crowley up. Crowley, whose hand tightened around his. He tried his best to squeeze back, comforting his angel just a bit.

He doubted him being in this state could offer any comfort, but Azirafell tried anyway.

“Hey dear.” He tried speaking again.

“A-angel…” Crowley muttered, in shock? Azirafell couldn’t tell. “You just lay still when I get on with healing you..” He didn’t ask what happen, but Azirafell could tell the question would come up again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, becoming more and more tired when the light from Crowley’s hands healed his broken bodies. What modern medicine and Adam didn’t heal, Crowley did. Azirafell could feel his wings, feathers finding growing and grooming itself back to tip-top condition, and let out another pained noise. Re-growing wings weren’t the best experience.

“It’s ok, it’s ok angel, just rest for now,” Crowley replied, voice soft. 

He nodded, and let his eyes fell closed again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of these days i will actually write a proper long chap  
> today is not that day

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully a weekly update, we'll see. Hope you enjoy that, and please validate me, I crave kudos and comments.
> 
>  
> 
> [Yell at me on tumblr, Im lonely ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dy-nevers)


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